In a Hopeless Place
by eb4life
Summary: When Yuri catches the flower filcher who's been stealing from his mother's garden, will a simple confrontation blossom into something more? All fluff! Idea from Pinterest, I'm just having fun with it
1. The Peony Plunderer

**AN:**

 **I'm baaaaccckkk!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Yuri! On Ice**

 **This is my second attempt at writing a fanfiction, but this time I wrote everything ahead of time so I'll be posting regularly (surprising, I know). This is actually a post from Pinterest, but I'm too lazy to go find the source of this prompt… let me know if you really want to know, though. I'll totally go find it for you ANYTHING FOR MY READERS!**

 **As far as trigger warnings and all that lovely stuff, I don't think there's anything in here that would upset anyone. As you can tell by the title, there's mention of a death, but it's an OC, so you won't miss him! Also crying. If you don't like crying, you may want to hit that back arrow, I'm just saying.**

 **This story, as usual, was meant to be a oneshot. And, _as usual_ , I wrote too much. I hope you enjoy my inability to control myself!**

 **Ch1— The Peony PLunderer**

Staaaaaarreee.

"Yuri?"

Sssstttaaarreee….

"Yuri."

Sssssttttaaaarrrreee….

"You're scaring the birds away." A soft, amused voice noticed.

"Someone keeps stealing from your garden." Yuri mumbled sleepily, his words coming out in a jumbled mush. He scrubbed a hand down his face, attempting to rejuvenate himself. It felt like he hadn't slept in years or eaten in months.

"Someone— what?" His mother asked, genuinely sounded confused. She bustled around to place her hand on Yuri's forehead, checking his temperature. Yuri batted her hand away, but his exhaustion made his movements slow and uncoordinated so all he did was lightly whack his mother's arm.

"Don't tell me you didn't notice, Mom." Yuri rolled his eyes, voice slightly clearer and louder due to an increase in level of sass. "Someone's been stealing your flowers." He clarified. Mrs. Katsuki blinked, surprised by her son's uncharacteristically observant behaviour.

"You didn't…?" Mrs. Katsuki pursed her lips, rephrasing her question. She poured Yuri a cup of tea and set it on the windowsill that he was leaning against. "Did you stay up all night?" she asked carefully, smoothing the creases in her bright blue, flower-spotted apron. Yuri nodded, draining the whole cup in one gulp, unaware that his mother began fussing around him, smoothing his hair and refilling his tea. She noticed how weary her youngest was. The poor thing had more bags than a Walmart under his eyes.

"Wanted to know… who was stealing your flowers…" Yuri slurred, leaning heavily against one arm as his droopy eyes started sliding shut. Mrs. Katsuki shook her head, tutting quietly as she patted her only son's head. She moved the teacup safely away from his elbow and headed downstairs, untying her apron as she went. When she reached the first floor, she popped into the kitchen and hung the apron on a peg by the kitchen door. She scooped up her coat and purse, and slipped off to work, cringing as the blasted screen door slapped shut behind her.

Yuri jerked awake with a sharp yelp. He was slumped in a chair, leaning across the window sill in the kitchen that overlooked a garden of colourful flowers. He grinned at the beautiful sight the garden made. It was his mother's garden, her pride and joy. She spent hours a day slaving away in it, digging and planting, weeding and watering. She would always come inside sweaty and covered in dirt— but bearing the biggest, widest grin in the world. Yuri wanted to protect that. He wanted to protect that unashamed, unhidden, unapologetic joy. His mother wore her heart on her sleeve and ever since her father died last month, she had been stressed and drained. She mourned for a very long time and had stopped doing anything just for fun. She abandoned her knitting, and baking, she stopped taking walks and chatting with friends and neighbors— she just… stopped.

Mr. Katsuki was very concerned and educated himself on several mood disorders and mental illnesses, like depression and bipolar disorder. For so long, he had considered his wife's sadness, disinterest and exhaustion to be normal effects of mourning the loss of a loved one, but the duration of her mourning became a little worrying.

Wanting to get his wife a professional diagnosis (if she had one) and help with her mourning, he took her to a doctor's office where they met a therapist, a psychologist and a doctor. These people preformed several examinations and tests on Mrs. Katsuki came to the same conclusion.

Yuri's mother had depression.

The woman who was always so happy and care-free had a mental disease, some kind of disorder that caused its victims to lose interest in things— even _people_ — they loved. It caused them to feel lost and angry, but sad and empty at the same time. It made people feel lonely in crowded places and overwhelmed when they were physically alone.

Mrs. Katsuki was put on a treatment plan, which helped a bit. She didn't complain about sadness anymore, and she didn't burst into tears at random points in the day, but she was still listless and sluggish— even more so right after she took her medication. The psychologist had suggested getting her into a hobby. The doctor suggested a new medication. The therapist suggested talking about feelings.

One day, Yuri's father had come home from grocery shopping, and had with him a sad looking little rose bush. He said he found it sitting next to a big dumpster by the florist shop on his way home and that he felt he couldn't leave it to die. He took pity on it, and he… stole it? Is it stealing if it was already trash to begin with?

Nevertheless, Mrs. Katsuki took an immediate liking to the sweet little plant and began researching almost obsessively for every scrap of information she could find about roses, and gardening. She went to the library for books, she asked her friends for advice, she borrowed tools from the neighbors. She became active and interested and began to open up bit by bit.

Yuri was elated to see his mother excited about something again. As a child, he had always taken pride on how cheerful, and optimistic his mother was. She had the prettiest smile and the warmest laugh, and Yuri loved her for it. But when that warm, cheery woman began to fade away, Yuri felt lost. He always looked to his mother for guidance and hope. He always looked to his mother for a reason to be happy in a world full of sorrow. And now his source of this guidance and hope and joy was in need of her own help.

And it came in the form of a rather ugly and pitiful bush.

And Yuri was elated.

Of course, he was a bit upset that he couldn't help his mother. He was his mother's "little boy," her "precious child," as she said, so if anyone could make her feel better, it should've been Yuri. He felt useless and weak, unable to help the woman who sacrificed so much for him, who worked her fingers to the bone for him, who gave him everything. But he was glad that something could grant her happiness.

And then Yuri witnessed his mother's healing. It was like watching a flower bloom. Mrs. Katsuki gained back her lost friendships, she took interest in new hobbies, and she was able to smile and look forward to the next day. Her visions of planting and tending grew and exploded from a tiny, ugly bush to a beautiful, lush garden. Yuri watched as her pain and sorrow unfolded into something beautiful and hopeful and it was truly amazing. He now had another thing to take pride in, other than his mother's newfound joy and smile— he now could say that his mother had the prettiest, biggest, most bountiful garden in the entire city.

And now, all of the sudden, flowers were going missing. The perpetrator had a respect for symmetry. He or she took flowers in a way that it wouldn't disturb too horribly the patterns that Yuri's mother had carefully planned out with her blooms and bushes. This made it less noticeable that plants were going missing, so it was hard to say whether the criminal just felt bad and wanted to keep the garden looking nice, or if her or she just didn't want to get caught. Either way, Yuri eventually took notice.

He wasn't sure when in the flower-stealing-saga he discovered that the flowers were going missing. For all he knew, the thief could've been at it for weeks! The only reason he actually noticed in the first place was because of what flowers had gone missing that day.

Rose heads from the special anti-depression, soul-finding rose bush were snipped. It wasn't enough to harm the bush or make it look obvious, but Yuri still noticed and decided to spend the whole night awake to try and catch the jerk who was stealing his mother's flowers.

And that brings us to today: the day after the all-nighter.

Yuri blinked, wriggling his nose and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. The window was open, letting the fresh spring air waft in with the songs of birds and whispers of trees. The sun shone down warmly, and butterflies and bumblebees whizzed around from flower to flower. Yuri felt drained. He really can't handle all-nighters.

Once upon a time, Yuri had formed a study group with a couple of friends that had higher marks than himself in the hopes of discovering their secret, or cult practices, or witching brews. Whatever it was that made them get such high scores on every test— he wanted in. These were the kids that moaned when they got 94's instead of "at least a 98." These were the kids who competed with their grades down to the sixth decimal "I have a 98.134762— that's .000001 above you— ha!" These were the kids who felt that their grades defined them "I got a 91, I'm so stupid. I'm never going anywhere in life; my parents are going to disown me."

And Yuri was average. Yuri was "Oh wow, I actually passed that— look at this, it's a 68! That's passing!" Yuri was "Wait there's a test?" Yuri was "What class is this again?" Yuri was a little _below_ average, actually.

Wanting to change this fact, Yuri began to investigate the "smart kids" and their habits. And he found out that his friends' secret to success was intimidating— and "witching brew" was the best description for what it was. These kids drank at least 30 ounces of black coffee (adding 5 ounces for every point they wanted to receive higher than their last grade. If they wanted to make 5 points better, they would add 25 ounces) mixed with two American Redbull energy drinks. They then proceeded to spend the entire night wide awake, frantically studying and reading and researching like all that mattered was Advanced Physics or AP British Literature or Accelerated Calculus.

This method worked well for these students, though it was somewhat terrifying to watch. Hyped up on sugar and caffeine, these teens were frantic and obsessive in their efforts with their studies. They babbled manically to themselves, their movements were jerky and their facial muscles spasmed and twitched like they were being electrocuted. Yet, somehow, they made it to school on time the next day without looking like personifications of death.

Yuri did not have the stamina for this. And so, Yuri continued to gladly accept his "(below) average's" while his friends pocketed their "advanced" marks and developed raging cases of insomnia. They may be doctors and lawyers now, but at least Yuri had his sanity.

Something snapped Yuri's wandering, sleep-dazed mind back to the present. Curious as to what had jerked him from his reverie, he soaked in the sounds of his home— the birds singing and chirping outside, the chimes on porches tinkling in the breeze, the soft chatter from people strolling on the sidewalks… Yuri cocked his head, as he suddenly heard something different. It was a strange grunting noise. It sounded like someone was lifting or dragging something much heavier than they could bear and was voicing their strain.

That was odd. Both of Yuri's parents were working in the hot springs, which their home was attached to the back of. Maybe his mother finally decided to get some help with the landscaping. Though it was considered to be "her" garden, it was on the property of the hot springs. Because of this, Yuri thought there should be some type of professional help to take a bit of the burden off his mother's shoulders. Running your own business was hard enough without the dedication and long, tiresome work that comes with taking care of the _whole_ plot of land the business sat on.

That being said, Yuri's mother always wanted her bushes and flowers and trees and fountains and walk ways to be _just_ _right_ , so she usually depended on herself to do all the landscaping. Every now and again she would employ Yuri to weed or mow, but she did all the creative and fun work. She planned her gardening design and planted flowers, while Yuri pushed a ten-ton brick of plastic up and down a hill steeper than a cliff, and around the tight corners of the building. Yuri was all for hiring someone else to push a ten-ton brick of plastic around the yard.

Leaning carefully out the window, Yuri studied the ground below him and searched for the source of the sound. His eyes landed on a head of silvery hair that was just under his window. The hair belonged to a man whose back was facing Yuri. Yuri blushed when he was granted the view of attractively stretching and bulging muscles.

Yuri felt only moderately creepy and stalkerish as he watched the man at work. He cocked his head curiously, unable to tell what the man was doing. The man had his back to Yuri and (from what Yuri could tell) was squatting amidst a cluster of blooming pink peonies that bobbed gracefully in the breeze as their ruffled petals fluttered. They were mesmerizing and beautiful, almost managing to distract Yuri from the fact the man was holding one of those beautiful things high in the air as if he were inspecting it. Yuri felt his heart stutter to a halt and his face blossom with heat from sudden rage. This man. Was stealing. His mother's peonies.

Wait!

Yuri suddenly felt a maniacal grin spread across his face.

This man was stealing his mother's peonies! Yuri finally caught the bandit red handed! Yuri did a little happy dance, congratulating himself on his spy skills. He was so observant and patient, waiting in the window for the thief to show like a hawk to strike on its prey—

Wait!

This man is _stealing_ is mother's flowers! As in it was presently occurring! Yuri snapped into action. He leaned on his stomach on the windowsill, his upper torso fully suspended in the air outside the second story window. Yuri carefully gripped the side of the window with one hand (safety first, kids) and used the other to frantically wave at the flower-stealer.

"Hey! Hey, you!" Yuri's customary shyness with strangers had been thrown to the wind (as were caution, common sense, safety….). The man jerked around in a rather graceful crouching pivot.

"Wha— oh—" and then the man said a word that Yuri was 99% sure wasn't Japanese. He couldn't be sure. He never made good marks in Japanese class.

"Stop right there, thief!" Yuri shouted triumphantly. "I caught you in the act, there's no way you're getting out of this now!"

"I… I was stealing _flowers_ …" What kind of accent did this guy have? If his hair was natural in colour, and his accent wasn't for show— maybe he was a foreigner. Maybe where he came from it was customary for one to steal another's flowers. Yuri shook his head.

That's ridiculous— focus!

"So, you admit that you were stealing, which is, in fact, against the law and punishable by—"

"I was stealing _flowers_ , not Rolexes." Yuri made a face.

"Just because they aren't made of gold and diamonds doesn't mean they're worth any less to someone else." The foreigner looked taken aback but recovered quickly.

"That's great, but I have somewhere to be. Mind wrapping this up?" the foreigner flashed an almost predatorial smile at Yuri, who felt a shiver race down his spine. Yuri narrowed his eyes, irritated by his own reaction to this… peony plunderer.

"Hey, don't you walk away from me!" Yuri shouted, leaning further out the window. The thief was standing up and brushing dirt off his pants, looking as if he was going to make a break for it. Yuri didn't have time to go down the stairs, he'd have to walk to the other end of the house to get to the stairs, then he'd have to go down them without falling for once, and then he'd have to manage to run around the entire hot springs to the side of the building where the gardens started. The villain would be long gone by then. Yuri pushed himself farther out of the window.

"Don't you dare run!" He repeated. He was kneeling on the window sill now, balancing quite precariously as he tried to get the foreigner to stop trying to run away. The foreigner saw Yuri on the windowsill and started to panic, which Yuri found entertaining.

"Oh, my— you asdkjhieu!#$%, what are you doing!?" The man demanded, again using a few words Yuri didn't know. Judging by the context it was used in and the force that was put behind it, Yuri questioned the politeness of the word.

"I'm— I'm stopping… you." Yuri gulped, realizing how high up he was. Geez, what a way to discover your fear of heights.

"Get down from there!" the man demanded, hands on his hips in a sassy and oddly attractive pose. The man's voice sounded almost desperate. He must be worried that, if Yuri fell and died, he'd probably have a homicide trial on his hands (along with the trial for being a dirty flower thief).

"No! I have to make sure you don't steal anymore of my mom's flowers!" Yuri protested fiercely.

"Don't you have stairs, or does everyone in Japan make conversation in through the top floor windows?"

"You make it sound like you know someone else in Japan who converses through top floor windows."

"That's what was implied, wasn't it?" the man mocked. Yuri made a face at him, belatedly realizing the guy was probably too far away to see Yuri's face and therefore would think that Yuri was not responding due to the fact that he didn't know how to verbally fight people. It was true, but Yuri didn't want this man to know that.

"Go down the stairs, I'll wait for you." the man ordered. Yuri couldn't help but blush at that last sentiment. Yuri cursed himself and his romantic heart to eternal damnation.

"How do I know you mean that?" Yuri asked suspiciously, heart racing at the double meaning behind his words. The man shrugged.

"I guess you'll just have to trust me."

"Trust a thief who stole from my mother's special rose bush?" Yuri snarked back. The man's posture went from straight and confident to hunched and tired looking. _Guilt_.

"Special…?"

"Yeah, her special rose bush. Dad bought it for her to help her get a hobby to distract her from her dad's death. It was a gnarly looking thing to start with, but she has a green thumb. It inspired her to make all this." Yuri gestured at the beautiful, colourful garden. The guy hunched in even more.

"Her dad's death?" the criminal asked meekly, looking like a kid caught with his hand in a cookie jar.

"Yeah, she had a bit of a nasty bout with depression… you know how it goes." Yuri said, not knowing if this guy really knew how it went, but also not wanting to explain how he saw his mother die a little each day until a freaking flower brought her back to life. He lost to a flower.

Yuri remembered waking up early to make breakfast in bed for his mother because he knew it was difficult to get up sometimes (all the time). He remembered doing chores and little tasks around the house like laundry, because his mother just didn't seem to have the energy or interest to do anything anymore. He kept her up to date with what was going on with her friends, and yet it was a flower that ultimately brought her joy. Yikes.

"Ah…. Arg, geez…" the man ran a hand through his hair agitatedly. He seemed to be looking everywhere but at Yuri.

"Up here, loser!" Yuri called out, feeling suddenly irritated. This jerk felt so guilty he couldn't look Yuri in the eye. That was _his_ problem, not Yuri's and Yuri demanded to be seen. "And stop stealing my mom's flowers!" He added for good measure.

"It's not like— ugh, it's not like I _want_ to steal your mom's depression flowers!"

"Then don't do it! It's pretty simple!" Yuri snapped.

"I have to— come on, I just…. I know how it looks, but—"

"It _looks_ like you're stealing a depressed woman's flowers, which, by the way, is like stealing candy from a kid with cancer." Yuri felt is blood broiling as he shook a finger down at the man. He leaned over, so his voice carried clearly.

"I mean where's your sympathy? Where's your empathy? Where's your human decen— woah-my God!" Yuri shouted, his stomach rising, his heart pounding as he felt his balance slipping. He heard the man yelling at him as he wobbled on the ledge precariously, arms pinwheeling to find some balance to counter his slipping knee.

"Not helpi— crap!"

And Yuri— ever graceful, well-balanced and cautious Yuri— fell out of his own kitchen window.

 **AN:**

 **Ooc anyone? Don't worry, it only gets worse from here! I swear, it's impossible for me to stick with the published characterization, I have to go off and do my own thing with everybody. Sorry.**

 **Also, me making people fall from really high places at random? Yep. It's my thing. Don't judge.**


	2. The Rose Robber

**AN:**

 **There are either ghosts or rats in my house.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Yuri! On Ice**

 **My dog keeps staring up at the top of my closet or down at the floor very intently, which makes me think I have either ghosts or rats in my house. So, if anyone knows how to politely ask ghosts to leave without going all Ouiji on them or getting murdered by said ghosts— let me know.**

 **Also, I had a lot of technical issues with this chapter (the end conglomerated into one mass paragraph, instead of being smaller separate paragraphs like I had at first) this is the redo. So any of you who saw the first one and were royally confused, you're welcome.**

 **And now for the reason you're all here!**

 **Ch2— The Rose Robber**

"… I mean, I'm just saying. You couldn't have picked a better person to do this too? I don't have insurance yet— it's still in Россия... дерьмо я влип."

And that was the charming, one-sided, partly gibberish conversation that Yuri woke up to. Yuri squinted at the harsh brightness he assumed was coming from the stupid sun, feeling a deep ache throughout his body. He felt his back being stabbed by whatever in the world it was that he was lying on, but his head rested on something soft.

"клянусь Богом, if you end up paralyzed— if you die even a _little_ bit, I'll—"

"Kill me?" Yuri asked, voice hardly recognizable. It was gravely and heavy, like he was a long-time smoker. Yuri forced his heavy eyelids open, only to have them slam shut from the bright sunlight that blinded him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a tall shadow start to lean in. He instinctively moved to wriggle away from the unknown object, but a hand rested on his chest to hold him down.

"Don't move, you might have a spinal injury or— or… just… sit up and completely ignore me. Okay." The voice was smooth and gentle, and it sent warm tingles through Yuri's fuzzy, discombobulated mind. Blinking a few times, trying to recall how he recognized the voice, Yuri realized it was the man who stole the flowers. Yuri continued to blink, images around him coming through like an old, shaky film. The man was— wow, the man was much more attractive up close. He had porcelain skin with a faint rosy blush and startlingly grey eyes that looked like the center of a storm.

"You're pretty." Yuri blurted out, hand coming to clap his mouth. Well, he tried to clap a hand over his mouth. His hand ended up being a little less coordinated than Yuri thought, and he ended up punching himself in the nose, sending bright sparks and spots of darkness through his vision.

"You idiot, cut that out! You're going to damage yourself more than you already have!" this guy seemed a lot grumpier than Yuri remembered.

"I'm not damaged…" Yuri slurred weakly, crinkling his nose as the man grinned warmly, almost affectionately at him. He ran a hand through Yuri's hair, probably checking for head injuries, Yuri's sluggish mind suggested.

"Sure, you aren't." the man agreed. "I still say you should go to the hospital—"

"Wait, why— oh!" Yuri exclaimed. Images of the moments just before this one snapped back into his mind like a key into a lock. "Did I fall out of the window again?" Yuri asked sheepishly. He felt increasingly… giddy the longer the man stared at him with that intense silver gaze.

"I'm sorry, did you say _again_?"

"Did I aim right? You know, fall right so I don't die or get paralyzed or whatever?" Yuri said, systematically flexing his toes and fingers, checking for breaks, tears, sprains and other injuries.

"You…. you have a method for falling?" The criminal asked incredulously.

"Well, when you fall as much as I do…" Yuri rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously.

"I see… well, you didn't fall head first, if that's what you're asking..." the rose robber trailed off, fixing a curious gaze on Yuri, who felt himself flush again. "How did you fall out of the window, anyways? Are you that…" the man paused and seemed to be searching for the right term.

"Imbalanced? Careless? Uncoordinated?" Yuri offered helpfully.

"All of the above. Are you sure you're okay?" Yuri responded by testing his limbs and joints for motion and flexibility, then gave a nod.

"Are you protected by angels, or…?" the man asked honestly. Yuri burst into laughter, feeling the back of his head for any lumps or bruises.

"I don't think there's anything wrong with me. Can I get up now?" Yuri requested.

"How are you not injured?!" the man sounded like he was at his wit's end. Yuri shrugged.

"I don't know, take it up with the big man upstairs." He said, carefully sitting up.

"Wait, aren't some spinal injuries not immediate? What if you're internally bleeding or something? What if adrenaline is pumping through your system so fast, you don't realize the extent of your injuries?" For a thief, this guy was really thorough.

"Then we'll deal with that when we get there, Doc." Yuri said confidently, still more worried about the protection of his mother's flowers than he was with his own health.

"Are you kidding me?"

"Look, if it helps, my mom used to be a nurse. She taught me everything she knew, though I have no idea why…." Yuri muttered that last sentiment under his breath. "And with my accident-prone self, I've learned a lot about injuries. I can save you from severe electrocution and shock, I know how to preserve severed limbs until they can be sewn back on, I can do stitches in my sleep. Trust me when I say this: I. Am. Fine." Yuri said firmly and evenly, not at all like someone who was experiencing an awful headache along with the inability to see straight.

"I… okay." The man relented. "Fine. But if you die from a hemorrhage, or end up paralyzed or whatever, you can't blame it on me. Okay?" Yuri nodded at this and grinned, pleased that he won the argument. "But, please, go inside and lay down for the rest of the day?" Yuri mentally weighed the possibilities of overcoming the mans' puppy dog eyes. He relented.

"Okay. But—" Yuri said, cutting off the grin that was spreading across the other man's lips. "I demand that you come back tomorrow. I want to know why you're taking my mom's flowers." Something flashed in the man's eyes, but it was gone so quickly, Yuri figured it must have been his jostled mind playing tricks on him.

"Deal." The man stuck out a hand and Yuri reached out his own, which wore a few shallow scratches from his fall.

"I'll be back. I promise." The man winked. Holy ham and cheese, Yuri was having heart palpitations. "Do you need help getting back inside?"

"No." Well, Yuri _tried_ to say "no." It came out more like "N-ye-no." Which the man took as a "yes," of course.

"I'll help you inside then. What's the safest way to carry a person who might have a spinal injury….?" The man frowned, tapping his chin in thought. "Wait, do I have to get you back upstairs?" he asked incredulously. Yuri nodded weakly.

"Sorry." He muttered. "You don't have to do this, I can walk." He promised, shifting to start walking towards the front of the house.

"Oh, I'm definitely helping you if there's stairs involved. Now what's the best way to do this…" the man trailed off thoughtfully, eyeing a blushing Yuri up and down.

"Fine, whatever. How strong are you?" Yuri asked, pointedly looking away from the muscles exposed by the man's sleeve-less shirt. "Do you think you can hold my weight easily?"

"You probably weigh less than a butterfly." Yuri grimaced at that.

"Well, the safest methods are the cradle carry or the backpack carry. Those are least likely to jostle the spine. Whatever you're comfortable with." Yuri said flippantly as if he didn't care. Oh. He cared. He cared a lot. He absolutely _loathed_ the cradle carry. With a passion. It was basically the damsel-in-distress carry, or the bridal carry, or the princess carry— it has many _feminine_ names, which Yuri did not appreciate.

"Cradle carry." The rose robber said. Yuri bit the inside of his face to keep himself from cursing but felt his chest warm when the man explained his reasoning. "If you're on my back, I can't see you to know if you're getting worse or if I'm causing you pain." This guy was a textbook example of the super-hero type.

"Fine." Yuri nodded reluctantly, holding his arms up like a little kid. "Let's get this over with." With surprising gentleness, the thief reached down with one strong arm under Yuri's knees, the other wrapping around his torso. Yuri felt himself lifted into the air, but he somehow experienced little pain or ache from his abused muscles. Despite how vulnerable he felt in this situation, Yuri felt secure. As in, safe. And, oddly enough, protected. He was held firmly— but carefully— against the stranger's warm, unsurprisingly toned chest by ripped arms that Yuri felt he could trust somehow.

The stranger was quick and light on his feet, despite his at least 140-pound burden. Yuri was glad for this because, for one: he knew he wouldn't be dropped, and two: the man's speed was useful in trying to keep undercover and not seen by prying pedestrians and gossipy neighbors. If the old lady and her husband across the street saw Yuri being carried around by a buff man in a muscle shirt, she'd probably have a talk with Yuri's parents before ever letting her grandkids walk on Yuri's side of the street again. And the journalist next door was chomping at the bit for new, juicy gossip. Seeing that local, awkward-boy-next-door Katsuki Yuri was swept off his feet by a foreign hunk with white hair and bigger guns than the military would definitely give her something to write about.

Before Yuri knew it, the mellow voice of his knight in shining armor pierced his thoughts.

"What?" Yuri croaked. The guy had the gall to grin. Not like a little "aw cute" or even a "what a dork" grin. No, this was a sexy, sultry, _gimmie-gimmie_ kind of grin. And it hit Yuri in the chest like a freaking freight train.

"I asked where your room is." Could this guy's voice get any huskier? Was it even possible? And what was with the wording of that question— then again, is there another way to word that question, but still it's a weird quest— oh right, he asked a question, questions need answers—

"Gah— ah —I mean— i-it's that one." Yuri stuttered, pointing to the door at the end of the hall he had lead the bandit through. The steady rocking motion of the man's body as he walked with Yuri in his arms was disturbingly soothing. Yuri felt his bones melt as his body relaxed into the criminal's arms. His eyes slid shut— just for a minute. He wanted to rest his eyes, he spent all night staring at his backyard, after all— and his head rolled against the stranger's shoulder limply.

* * *

When Yuri woke up, he was very confused. He rubbed his stinging eyes and muffled a long yawn that threatened to crack his jaw in two. Smacking his lips sleepily, he stretched his arms up and slid out of bed, the cool white sheets tangling with his legs for a moment. He brushed a hand through his messy hair as he shuffled to the window. He relished in the golden sunshine that streamed in through the window when he pushed the billowy blue curtains to the side. Pushing up the window, he leaned against the sill, hopping up on it so he could better see the world outside his sleepy bedroom.

Birds sang cheerfully, flying around each other in fantastic aerial displays while butterflies and bumble bees kissed flowers lightly, granting them life. A gentle breeze swept through Yuri's hair, refreshing him in every sense and making his curtains dance like ocean waves. Trees whispered in response to the wind, and chimes hanging from nearby porches jingled cheerily.

It felt like the beginning to a good day. A day where the neighborhood kids ride their bikes up and down the street and play ball in each other's backyards. A day where the elderly folk feel well enough to sit on their porches and witness life and youth bustle around them. A day where hard working parents and students are glad and thankful for what they do. A day where—

神聖なたわごと. There's a strange man in Yuri's bedroom.

Yuri let out a muffled screech when he saw the reflection of a person standing behind him in his window, but the man was quick enough to clap a hand over Yuri's mouth before his desperate, blood-curdling shrieks could be heard by anyone.

"You're lively in the morning." The man said good-naturedly, as if it was a normal happening to wake up to a stranger in your room who may or may not have been watching you sleep. Yuri stared at the man, frozen with the hand still clamped on his face.

"Are… are you okay?" the stalker asked. That snapped Yuri out of the silent break down that was slowly shutting down his brain. Yuri smacked the man's powerful hand away from his face.

"No, I am _not_ okay— what are you _doing_ here?" Yuri hissed. Oh, God. What if his parents found out. Holy, snap. They probably had so many questions, not to mention a family conversation about the acceptance of any sexuality Yuri might feel he possessed— dear Lord, let the accusations fly…

"No one knows." The man spoke up suddenly, moving to sit in Yuri's desk chair. He picked up an arbitrary manga he must have been reading while Yuri slept. This man. Watched Yuri sleep. And broke into his manga collection.

 _Boundaries_.

"Dear, whatever deity is currently cursing my existence, I ask you now to forgive my transgressions and grant me peace from the _demon_ that currently resides in my dwelling—"

"What are you— are you praying?" the man asked incredulously. Yuri kept his hands folded together and didn't even twitch an eye.

"Shut up, this is an emergency, okay?" he hissed, eyes still closed, and face still tilted upwards in prayer.

"You have emergency prayers?" The man sounded like a cross between amused and befuddled.

"Yeah, for creepos like _you_ who stalk innocent people and read their manga while watching them sleep!" Yuri retorted sharply, opening one eyes to glare at the man.

"For the record," the man said, laying the book back down on the desk and leaning forward towards Yuri, who started praying faster. "I never watched you sleep." Yuri paused in his frantic talk to available deities. He opened one eye.

"Come again?"

"I never intended to stay either," the rose robber added. "After I dropped you off in bed, you wouldn't let me go." The man grinned triumphantly, like he had earned a trophy or won a contest.

"I… what?" Yuri felt his face light up in flames of blush.

"You kept clinging to me, asking me not to go." The man shrugged. "And who was I to deny—"

"Yeah, yeah, but I clearly let go— er, eventually— so why did you stay all night?" Yuri asked suspiciously, trying to cover his embarrassment of the image of himself holding onto the rose robber and refusing to release him. Sure enough, the criminal sighed, crossing his arms and leaning back into his chair. Christ, was he pouting? God, that's really ho— frantic praying, _franticpraying_ —

"Okay, okay. After I managed to claw you off— you're like a barnacle, did you know that? Or… or a starfish." Yuri squinted at this analogy. "Anyways, after I shook you off, I heard voices coming from the front door. I guessed that they were your family and figured you wouldn't want any of them to see me, so I stayed in here. I sat down, and… well, I guess I fell asleep because I woke up seconds after you."

Yuri blinked. This thief was oddly… considerate? Yuri shook his head. The man gave Yuri a bit of human decency. Yuri deserved decency, after all the trouble he went through to stop the thief from stealing his mom's flowers.

"By the way, are you okay?" the man asked, standing up from the desk chair and slowly walking over to Yuri, who sat on the edge of the bed. Yuri blinked, his slow mind finally snatching moments from the day before to starve his confusion.

"Ah, that…" Yuri trailed off as the man sat down on Yuri's bed, strong hands unexpectantly beginning to run up and down Yuri's spine. "I— a-ah— I'm f-f-fine…. You?" he managed. His body was still sore (as expected, he fell a good seven or eight feet), but the warm, tingly trails racing up and down his back were electrifying and intense. Yuri wriggled out of the way, hissing as something twinged in his back.

"くそ." Yuri grunted, hand reaching back on instinct to press against the sore area. Little did he know, that his shoulder was also damaged from the fall. The joint groaned at the movement, causing Yuri to let lose a sharp yelp, like a kicked puppy.

"Fine, huh?" Yuri expected the man to be smirking at Yuri's weakness, or chuckling at his refusal to admit injury, but when he turned around he caught a concerned glance from his stalker instead.

"Who are you?" Yuri blurted out. "Er, what's your name?" he corrected when the stranger looked suddenly disturbed, probably thinking Yuri forgot who he was.

"Victor."

"Victor, what?"

"I only have one name. Victor."

"Do you— ow, _shite_ — do you have family?" Yuri asked between embarrassing pained gasps. His stalker— Victor Nolastname— was digging his fingers into the kinks and swollen muscles in Yuri's back like a _pro_.

"Sorry, sorry. It'll hurt for a bit, just let it pass." Victor practically crooned, as if he were soothing an infant. This was not supposed to be happening. Yuri was not supposed to be rooming with this mother's flower-thief and he was _not_ supposed to be getting a massage— a _brilliant_ massage— from said flower- thief because he fell out a window.

"Your family?" Yuri prompted, wanting to get something tangible, other than a name, out of his… companion. Victor sighed, voice heavy but hands soft. His warm thumbs were digging into Yuri's shoulder, which was sinfully, painfully, _beautifully_ soothing to the aching muscle and stressed joint.

"Why exactly would I tell you? Within the first two seconds of our meeting, you accused me of stealing flowers from a depressed woman."

"That's because you _were_ stealing flowers from a depressed woman." Yuri retorted. Victor was silent for a moment.

"You have a good point, but why should I trust you?"

"Isn't that my line?" Yuri asked incredulously.

"…fair enough, but I don't now what you might do with any information I give you."

"I'm not running to the cops, if that's what you think— _ow_!" Yuri clapped a hand on his neck, which had popped loudly under Victor's ministrations.

"Sorry. Your neck and back are really tight. I'm just reliving some built-up pressure." Victor said, resuming his massage. "And to answer your question, no. I don't have family." Yuri noticed the darker tone his voice held when he said the word "family." It was almost a sneer.

"Everyone has family." Yuri said quietly, dying to know but also scared to find out (or push the criminal giving him too far). Victor sighed and leaned to sit on the backs of his calves, a single hand stroking Yuri's back. "Dad died. Mom left. Single child. The end." "Grandparents, cousins, aunts, unc—" Yuri prompted.

"Grandparents: dead. Aunts: none. Uncles: one, dead. Cousins: two; one dead, one in prison. I have no family." The air was so heavy and tense Yuri could cut it with his blunt freaking questions.

"I have a sibling. She's annoying, I can share." Yuri blurted out. He expected the man to get offended and say how lucky Yuri was to have a family, but Victor merely chuckled. And, God, his _laugh_ …. His laugh was like golden honey and soft caramel melting together in an oozing puddle of sweetness in the sunshine of a warm summer day— _dear Lord,_ _send help_ —

"Once your family finds out I've been stealing their flowers, I don't think they'll want me anywhere near your little sister."

"She's not younger than me. She's, like, 30."

"Oh. How old are you?"

"Old enough to know not to tell you." Yuri shot back.

"Early twenties?"

"How'd you—" Yuri began, but noticed that Victor was holding Yuri's driver's license in his hands. "Wow, how'd you guess." Yuri said in a flat voice, snatching his ID back. Victor snickered.

"Your sarcasm. It hurts." Yuri rolled his eyes and stood up, noting Victor's odd movement behind him. It looked like he had been reaching out, as if to pull Yuri back down onto the bed with him but thought better of it and withdrew his hand. Yuri shook his head. Wishful thinking.

Yuri walked over to his closet and began pulling a pair of dark jeans and a fluffy white sweater out of the throngs of fabric. He had half tugged off his shirt before remembering that there was someone in his room, other than himself. Victor made an awkward coughing sound, like he was clearing his throat and Yuri flushed red with realization.

"Well, don't look, if it makes you uncomfortable." He grumbled, ignoring how his voice wavered slightly. Despite what he said, Yuri hid behind the closet door, quickly stripping out of his clothes. "Hey, what did you want with my mom's flowers anyways?" Yuri asked curiously, tangling himself in his sweater on accident.

"You said something about needing them…" When Victor didn't respond, Yuri stepped up onto a couple boxes stored at the bottom of his closet and peeked over the door. Victor was clenching the white sheets on Yuri's bed in a shaking fist, jaw almost as tense as the rest of his body.

"I did— do need them." Victor said softly in a calm sort of angry voice.

"And you need them because…." Yuri tentatively coaxed him. Victor turned his face further away from Yuri's view, his body's trembling amping up to at least a five in the Richter scale. Yuri ducked back down behind the door, tugging his jeans up. He stepped out from behind the doors as he buttoned his pants, struggling to make it over to Victor while wrestling with the button.

"Are you okay?" he asked breathlessly, plopping down next to his… person. Victor nodded glumly and attempted to answer Yuri's previous question again.

"I needed them to…. To give to someone." Victor said carefully, as if afraid he might say something wrong.

"Oh." Yuri couldn't help but feel disappointed. "A girlfriend?" Victor shook his head, and Yuri couldn't help the elation that soared through his heart.

"Boyfriend." Victor corrected. "I was planning on meeting up with him… today." And Yuri's heart plummeted with the sound of a cartoon whistle.

"Ah." Yuri muttered, fiddling with the ends of his sweater's long sleeves. He felt a blush rising on his face as disappointment rushed through his veins. He berated himself for even hoping that this stranger would even look his way. "I see." Victor gave Yuri an odd look.

"Are you… you're not…. homopho—"

"Lord no, God no— _heck_ no— I'd be, like, afraid of myself, which I guess is a legitimate, deep fear, you know. Not deep as in "depth" but deep as in "that poem is deep, bro," you know what I mean? The fear of oneself and his or her abilities, maybe even their tendencies towards evil or sin or felony or what have you." Yuri babbled. Gah. He just came out to a complete stranger. Gah.

"That's good— well, I mean, it's not _good_ , per say, but it's not bad. It's…. it's interesting— ugh, that sounded bad too, I mean that it's okay, that's great? I guess…" Victor's eyes raced around the room, looking everywhere but at Yuri, and his rate of fidgeting skyrocketed. Yuri rather enjoyed watching someone other than himself babble themselves deeper and deeper into a whole they couldn't climb out of.

"Right. Well. On that note, can I meet this lovely gentleman?" Yuri asked, fluttering his lashes obviously. What was he doing? Hey, stalker/thief/wanted criminal, mind if I meet your boyfriend? The Bonnie to your Clyde? The Harley Quinn to your Joker?"

"Uh… well…"

"Great!" Yuri exclaimed, scrambling to pull on a pair of boots. "And don't worry about disturbing my parents, or them finding you. They're at work. Well, work is technically stuck to the back of my house. Well, actually, the house is attached to the back of the hot springs— that's their work, the hot springs, I mean— so it's not that far away or anything…. Anyways, they'll be too busy to notice you." Yuri shut himself up with the snap of his jaw.

"Or you?" Victor sounded disbelieving. Yuri paused, wondering what he said wrong.

"I… they're busy, so…" he blinked in confusion.

"So, they don't notice you." Victor finished. Yuri clapped a hand to his forehead.

"No, no, no. They _notice_ me. Really, they do—"

"Yeah, they noticed you fell out a window yesterday, did they?" Yuri raised his index finger, then lowered as if thought better of what he had been about to say.

"You know," he started carefully. "Just because my parents are a bit busy trying to give me the best life possible, doesn't mean they don't love me."

"I never said they didn't. I just noticed that they don't pay attention to you." Victor shrugged and stood up, stretching enough that his shirt road up a bit, revealing a line of pale skin and toned muscles. Yuri blinked and glanced away, willing his suddenly spotty thoughts to focus.

"They're busy." Yuri repeated firmly, wondering why Victor was making such a big deal of this. Victor raised his hands as if in surrender.

"Alright, alright. I just meant that, well… that people should appreciate the things in their lives.. But… it looks like I've offended the host, so I'll just be on my merry way…" Victor attempted to sneak off, but Yuri lashed out and grabbed his collar.

"Oh, no. You're going to introduce me to your boyfriend." Yuri corrected. "And after that, _then_ you can go."

"Why do you want to meet my boyfriend?" Victor asked, voice sounding suddenly strangled. Yuri shrugged, internally cursing his impulsive brain.

"I want to let him know that his good, yet expensive taste in flowers is ruining a depressed, orphaned, working mother's garden."

"Really."

"Yeah. If you've stuck with him, then he must be a good guy, right? Most good guys don't like their boyfriends to steal. Especially if it's from the kindest, most beautiful yet struggling and pained woman in the world." Victor gnawed on his lip for a minute. Yuri swore he could see the cogs in Victor's brain spinning as the poor guy tried to find a way out of this. "

What if I just ran off?" Yuri raised an eyebrow. "What if I walked out the front door and never came back." "I have your name. I've got a pretty good description of how you look and sound, and I've got brief— very brief— but existing family history. They will find you, Victor Nolastname, they will find you." Yuri said seriously. Victor gave Yuri a startled look. Yuri burst into cackles, unable to keep a straight face.

"Yeah, yeah, you got me. Ha ha." Victor said sulkily, like a child denied a shiny, new toy. "You can come to see— uh, meet— er, I'll take you to my boyfriend."

"Easy for you to say." Yuri snickered. Victor looked a seemed miffed at being laughed at, sticking his head up like a meerkat and sniffing with disgust. This only made Yuri laugh harder.

"Are we going, or not?" He asked, walking stiffly to Yuri's bedroom door. Yuri snagged a pear coloured rain jacket, hearing the skies beginning to open up outside his window and pour onto his roof.

"Do you not have a jacket?" Yuri asked, wriggling into his own. Unsurprisingly, Victor was still in the grass-stained jeans and loose muscle shirt he wore the day before. Victor glanced down at his apparel and shook his head, looking slightly embarrassed. Yuri thought a moment before speed walking out of the room.

"Wait here." He ordered, as if he were speaking to a dog or a small child. Yuri padded down the hall, ignoring Victor's confused expression. He walked up to his parent's door and announced his entrance, sliding the door open.

Thankfully the room was vacant. The space was relatively clean, a couple of articles of clothing were strewn across the hardwood floor, the beds soft covers spilled onto the floor, and a few stacks of papers piled up on the dark mahogany desk. Yuri carefully made his way through the room, trying to not upset anything in the room or leave any sign that he had been there. He snuck over to his father's closet and began rummaging around the suits and t-shirts and slacks.

"Aha!" he crowed triumphantly. He pulled a simple black rain jacket out of the back of his father's closet where it was nestled between two university sweatshirts. He shut the closet and raced out of the room, back down the hall and met Victor at his bedroom door.

"Here you are, you can borrow this." Yuri said breathlessly, handing over the jacket to Victor. Victor stared at it like it was a foreign object. Yuri furrowed his brow and looked at the jacket in his hand. There was nothing wrong with it. Sure, it was plain, but it both looked and smelled clean.

"Do they not have jackets where you're from?" Yuri asked dumbly. He felt his face heat up with embarrassment at the sudden, impulsive and clearly ridiculous question. Victor's sudden burst of laughter erased that feeling quickly.

"I'm from Russia. Trust me, we have jackets." He accepted the rain coat while Yuri marveled at his pronunciation of the word "Russia." After he slipped on the coat he allowed Yuri to help him with the zipper. "I just wasn't expecting…."

"You weren't expecting what? Human decency?" Yuri snorted, before his face sobered. "Wait, do they not have human decency in Russia?" Victor glanced at Yuri like he was the funniest and most risible thing in the world.

"Some would be willing to argue." Victor said between chuckles, as if he was making a joke. Yuri didn't get it.

"Anyways, thanks for the jacket."

"Don't mention." Yuri said, waving his thanks away. "Let's go see that boyfriend of yours." He said with a grin as he headed down the hall, feeling oddly excited. It was like his stomach was a shaken soda— bubbly and fizzy and about to explode (if that made any sense at all. It was definitely a new and strange feeling). Glancing over his shoulder, he noticed when he reached the end of the hall that Victor wasn't behind him. "Are you coming?" he asked, sliding the rest of the way down the hall in his socks.

 **AN:** **Dun, dun, DAAHHHH!** **Did I surprise you? Probably not, I bet you guys can see right through this plot. It's okay, you'll read it anyways, because you love me, right (please don't notice my plot holes)?** **Also, sock sliding. Specifically, Yuri sock sliding. It gives me life.** **Have a good one, loves, see you back here next week!**


	3. Rain Singer

**AN:** **What is characterization?**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Yuri! On Ice**

 **Get ready for some _hella_ OOC mess up here. Like is Yuri in the single digits, or is he in his twenties? The world will never know** **I had way too much fun writing this.**

 **Be warned.**

 **CH3— Rain Singer**

Victor was in deep дерьмо.

He was walking down the street, hand in hand with an absolute bundle of _joy_ — who was much too old to be this freaking adorable— to go see his boyfriend.

What was Victor thinking, allowing this little firecracker of a person to come with him!? When he met his boyfriend, Yuri was going to freak out and call Victor crazy. Or he was going to cry and hug Victor like crazy. Or he was going to babble away awkwardly and apologize like crazy— whatever it was, Victor knew it was going to be crazy.

Victor sighed heavily out his nose, giving a sideways glance at Yuri. The kid was wearing the softest looking white sweater in all of creation— it looked like a stuffed animals or clouds in clothing form. No joke. Victor really wanted to hug him and feel how fluffy-soft the fabric was. To add to the cuteness factor, Yuri's little arms were too short for the sleeves, so his hands ended up being swallowed by the wool sleeves up to his knuckles. He looked like a little kid.

He was also _acting_ like a little kid. Victor was struggling to keep a straight face as he watched Yuri jump puddle to puddle, singing song after song about rain. He was currently singing a cheerful little tune that Victor found familiar, but distant.

 _Raindrops keep falling on my head,_

 _but that don't mean my eyes will soon be turning red._

 _Crying's not for me…._

Victor grinned in spite of himself. Yuri's voice was pretty, in a delicate way. Yuri was the owner of a kind of voice that Victor's grandmother had known well. She called the owners of this kind of voice by an odd name. "Rain Singers." Rain Singers had a voice that captured the gentle beauty of raindrops, which explained the origin of the strange name. They had the kind of voices that were suited for gentle, melodic lullabies. And Yuri definitely had this kind of voice, which eased some of the panic and tenseness out of Victor's body. Victor was grateful for this. Lately he'd been… stressed.

Victor shook his head, shielding himself from a spray of rainwater as Yuri jumped in a puddle that was deeper than expected. Victor smiled softly as the corner of his eye caught his jacket's dark sleeve. He remembered how adamant Yuri had been that the jacket be accepted and worn. Victor was surprised by Yuri's hospitality. He had expected that he'd be run off with a broom like a stray cat who got in the roses (fitting analogy), or shouted at until he scampered off, but instead he was granted safe passage out of the house, a lovely conversation, and a jacket to borrow.

"Oh, my goodness, look!" Yuri shouted joyfully, releasing Victor's hand. Victor whipped his head up to follow Yuri's pointed finger. Up in the sky, nestled between a pair of dark grey clouds, was a long stream of shimmery colours.

"It's a rainbow— we have to make a wish!" Yuri exclaimed. Victor smiled, remembering his father having told him the same thing as a child.

His father was a dreamer. Loved sunsets, and stars, and oceans. Talked your ear off with stories and poems and songs. Played every instrument under the sun, loved slow dances and took long walks in the moonlight with Victor's mother. He was an amazing man.

Not to say his hot-tempered, awkward, two-left footed mother wasn't amazing, too. But she had been given a choice of whether to leave or not. And she left. She left a suffering, anguishing sixteen-year-old boy— Anyways, Yuri reminded Victor of his father, and a bit of his mother. His mother was a determined, stubborn woman who knew how to get her way. Victor had the feeling that Yuri managed to get quite a few people wrapped around his little fingers, earning his way quite easily.

"Are you mad at me, still?" a voice startled Victor out of his musings. He glanced down to see Yuri's big, chocolate-honey eyes staring up at him.

"I… what?"

"Are you mad a me still? For making you take me to see your boyfriend?" Yuri's tone was light, but Victor knew a thing or two about forcing a light tone when the soul was being crushed by something much heavier.

"I was never mad." Victor answered flippantly, stuffing his hands in his pockets (to keep from wrapping them around Yuri in a tight hug. The poor thing looked so upset. He wore his heart boldly on his sleeve). Yuri brightened a bit at this.

"Are you sure?"

"Why are you so interested in meeting my boyfriend?" Victor asked suddenly. Yuri blushed and looked away, muttering something so softly, Victor couldn't make out what it was. When Victor asked him to repeat himself, Yuri turned to face him and stopped walking. Victor halted as well, watching as Yuri lowered his head.

"I just want to make sure he's good. For you." Yuri said, only slightly louder. Victor felt something warm grow in his chest and his stomach. That feeling of friendship bubbled up, making him grin widely, despite his efforts to keep a straight hands came out of his pockets and clutched Yuri to his side, another effort of self-control failed. Yuri let out a squeak and began to shift uncomfortably in Victor's arms. He wasn't trying to free himself, but it was clear he was uncomfortable. Victor pulled back, stomach still warm, chest still bursting.

"Sorry," Victor said honestly. "I'm not used to people saying…" he trailed off. Something was suddenly wrapped around his waist like a vice, holding him in place. Looking down, he saw Yuri had an arm wrapped around him, looking up expectantly.

"Saying what?" Yuri asked. Victor grinned. How could it be that someone he had met not even 24 hours ago— someone he had stolen from— was showing him more care and attention than anyone in his life had for the past ten plus years?

"I don't have people. Friends, family— I don't have anybody. So, there isn't anyone to ask how I'm doing, what I'm up to, to come see if my boyfriend is good enough for me—" Victor broke off with a soft laugh.

"It's nice, is all I'm saying. It's… it's nice." Yuri nodded as if this made perfect sense, and the pair continued down the sidewalk. Victor was actually glad that it was raining. Sure, it was cold and wet, and his apartment was probably flooded by now, but two could walk with their arms around each other and not worry about anyone staring because everybody else was inside, sheltered from the rain in their warm, dry homes. Also, Yuri was entertaining in the rain.

"So, where are we going exactly?" Yuri asked suddenly.

"To see my boyfriend."

"And, where is he?" Yuri prompted.

"In the direction that we're walking." Victor smirked when Yuri glared at him.

"Ugh, fine. Don't tell me, I'll add that to the list of mean things you've done to me." Yuri said petulantly, as if it was a threat.

"You're making a list of mean things I've done to you?" Victor raised an eyebrow in amusement. Yuri made a face at him.

God, how Yuri reminded Victor of Issei. Yes, he reminded him of his father's sensitive qualities and his mother's "my way or the highway" mentality, but Yuri was like a mirror image of Victor's boyfriend. There were differences, sure, that's what made them individuals. But the likeness was stunning. While Issei was darker in colouring and more on the muscular side, Yuri was pale and slender. Despite their looks, their personalities chimed the same melody. They were both day-dreamy, distracted and clutzy. They were unorganized and random, they spoke their minds and had "foot-in-mouth syndrome," but they were also caring and kind people. They loved, rather than fought, but were willing to fight for who they loved. They were mostly concerned with the wellbeing of others and were incredibly awkward and goofy.

These similarities were that bittersweet smile brought on by an aged, happy memory. It's seeing your old school boarded up and sitting on the same street it's always sat on, remembering biking to school, and laughing with friends under that tree, and "oh that one time so-and-so tried to climb that tree and broke his wrist". It's hearing a song that late relatives hummed during thunderstorms to you until you fall asleep, and smelling the aroma of thin, fruity teas that at one time were made to help you drift off to dream land. It's dancing the same dance with a lover that you danced with your mother before you said goodbye, and it's seeing a torn photograph and remembering when it had been shiny and new, sitting in a frame on a table that no longer exists.

It hurt, but it was a beautiful, welcomed pain that brought memories of happier times. For Victor, Yuri reminded him of the memories of Issei.

Memories of holding hands and counting the stars as they popped up across the sky.

Memories of climbing trees to kiss privately, and not be called names by the local idiots.

Memories of passing suggestive notes and sharing cheeky glances in class.

Memories of dancing in the rain to soft musical hums.

Victor glanced sideways at Yuri, who was now spinning in circles and laughing, following after Victor. Rain soaked hair fanning around his head like dark ribbons, and feet splashing in puddles rhythmically. Yuri's likeness to a child was unreal. And Victor couldn't help but stare. He was frozen in place, seeing two images. Seeing two kindred spirits enjoying the gentle rain shower.

As Yuri spun and his jacket flew about him like wings with his wet hair flaring out and sending droplets flying, Issei appeared, his feet kicking up water with rain trailing down his face like tears as he danced with Yuri through the storm. Unable to help himself, Victor reached out a hand, as if asking for a dance. Yuri stopped his twirling and grinned, looking a little nervous. Issei's image collided with Yuri's. Yuri's small hand finally came to rest on Victor's, and he gave him a mock curtsey, to which Victor responded with a low bow. Victor then wrapped a hand around Yuri's waist, Yuri's left hand going up to lay on Victor's shoulder as the pair's right hands clutched together.

Victor led Yuri in circles and they waltzed down the sidewalk, drenched in rain and slipping against the wet concrete. As they traveled in circles, Issei's body melted away from Yuri's like watercolours or wax crayons left in the sun to melt when Victor flung him into a dramatic spin that almost had the boy stumbling to the ground. And then Victor was alone with Yuri, in his bright green jacket and puppy-dog eyes. Victor hardly noticed his lover's sudden departure.

Victor hummed an old waltz tune that Issei had enjoyed, but Yuri's laughs were music enough. Victor felt like he was on a natural high. And, God, did it feel good to dance again. It was like playing the piano after years of abandoning it, only to find that you remember every song you struggled through and perfected in the past. It was like hearing your birth tongue for the first time in forever and recognizing it's rich and gruff tones immediately. It was like trying a mother's apple pie after being away for a long time, and finally feeling at peace and in the right place.

"Your voice is pretty." Yuri suddenly blurted out, the hand resting on Victor's shoulder rushing up to clap across his mouth, as if to keep himself from saying anything else. Victor grinned, letting go of Yuri's waist, and spinning him by the hand. Yuri let out an excited shout as he spun away and then back into Victor's arms, like coming back to an embrace.

"Where did you learn to dance like this?" Yuri asked, having to shout to be heard above the now pouring rain.

"My boyfriend was a dance major." Victor responded. "He didn't have a partner, so I was volunteered. He taught me everything he knew."

"Amazing, I can't wait to meet him!" Yuri said. Victor only smiled at him.

"We should go inside somewhere and wait out the storm a bit. At least to see if it'll slow down a bit." Victor suggested. "Actually, there's a little café near here that we could wait in. I know the owner pretty well. His name is Akio, he was actually introduced me to Issei."

"Really? You met your boyfriend in a café? I can't tell if that's grossly cliché or really cute…" Yuri joked.

"Yeah, apparently Issei was a regular, just like me. We somehow _just_ missed each other every day until one day when Issei complained to Akio that he couldn't find a dance partner. For some reason, Akio suggested _me_ as a partner and Issei waited for me to show up, Akio introduced us—"

"And the rest is history?" Yuri guessed with a grin. "You guys are the cutest love story. Two dancing partners who met in a café and fell in love. You should sell that to Hallmark!"

"Yeah, it's a pretty good story." Victor said sadly, squeezing Yuri a bit tighter as they continued to waltz down the sidewalk. Yuri stopped their swaying movements, sensing Victor's plummeting mood. Yuri tightly grasped Victor's rain-chilled hands.

"What's wrong?" Yuri asked softly. Victor tried to look everywhere but at Yuri, but he was drawn to the kid like a magnet. He watched with fascination as a drop of water trickled from his dark hair, down his pale skin and dropped off his chin.

"Nothing, I just…" Victor grinned brokenly, throat closing up. "I miss him." He whispered honestly. No phrase was truer.

"Well, then it's a good thing we're going to see him, then, isn't it?" Yuri asked. He sounded like he was trying to boost Victor's spirits, but he actually brought them down about. Well, more like he redirected Victor's depressed spirits to a different depressing thought. He was now wondering how the heck he was going to break the news to Yuri.

Hey Google: how do you tell a cute guy you just met and stole flowers from (plus spent a night watching his sleep) that he's not crashing a date, but he's crashing a grave visit?

Knowing what little he did about Yuri, who seemed to be quite strongly empathetic, Victor could only guess how well this was going to go. Maybe he should just play it off like he and his boyfriend meet in the cemetery and— whoops! — got the date mixed up, it's actually next week that they're meeting? Good in theory, but Yuri would just hang around until the "next date" to meet Issei. This was going to go so terribly.

"So, where's this café you were talking about?" Yuri asked curiously. "I can't wait to ask the owner all kinds of details about you and your _lover_." He added, eyebrows dancing and tone suggestive on his last word.

Victor felt himself had no idea why Yuri was so interested in knowing every last detail about himself and Issei. He sort of understood that Yuri wanted to make sure Victor was in a happy relationship, but why was he so motivated? Maybe Yuri had a friend who had a bad experience dating? Maybe said friend was abused by their lover and Yuri had to see the them suffer at the hands of someone they loved? Or maybe Yuri's own parents were hurtful to each other? Yuri had spoken so kindly and highly of his parents, what little he did say of them, so surely that couldn't be it. Unless he was hiding the rocky, painful relationship from the outside so that his parents' names wouldn't be dragged through the mud! How noble, how thoughtful, how selfless!

"Yuri…" Victor wasn't sure how to ask this. Are your parents abusing each other? Is one of your friends being hit by their lover? Oh no— is his sister—

"Yeah?" Yuri looked a little nervous. _He knows what's coming. He's thinking up excuses,_ Victor realized

"Why are you… Why are you so concerned with my boyfriend and me?" Victor asked carefully. "I understand you want to meet him, you want to make sure he's a good person. But what… what's the real reason?" Yuri bit his lip.

"I just, you know… want to make sure he's a good guy…" Yuri wasn't fooling anyone.

"Yuri… is someone close to you in a— er — a _bad_ relationship?" Victor tried to ask it gently, thoughtfully. It just didn't work. Hey, is your sister being smacked around by her boyfriend? See, there's just no good way to ask about that sort of thing!

"I had this boyfriend once…" Yuri swallowed with difficulty. "He was sweet. Hugged me a lot, held my hand. Told me I was… I was beautiful…" Yuri laughed bitterly, making the fine hairs of Victor's neck raise. He felt something coming. Like the feeling of the winds picking up and the sight of the sky darkening just before a thunderstorm.

"Then he would hurt me for doing or saying something wrong." Yuri mumbled quickly, so the words tied together. Victor stared at him. Wait. _What_?

"You mean… you…" Victor couldn't wrap his mind around this. Why would someone hurt Yuri, of all people?

"They call them "abusive relationships." Yuri said with a sardonic grin. He then shook his head, smile falling as he fiddled with his long sweater sleeves. "Everyone thinks it's bull, you know? Like, "well if he hurt you, why didn't you leave?" And that's such a stereotypical "victim of domestic abuse" thing to say. But, _Victor,_ " Yuri said Victor's voice with so much pain, Victor thought he might cry. "He was lovely, he… he _really_ was."

"You're not— are you still—" Victor could hardly get the words out. God, his heart was beating so fast and his mouth was so dry— he couldn't get out a coherent sentence.

"No." Yuri said, seeing the question Victor was trying to ask. Victor relaxed, not having realized how tightly wound his muscles had become. Relief washed over him, and a scared, caught breath rushed out of his lungs at that beautiful word. "No."

"Way to give me a heart attack." Victor mumbled, more irritated at his own reaction. Yuri saw this and gave him a warm look.

"Thank you." he said. Victor cocked an eyebrow at this response. "I…" Victor hardly thought he did anything worth thanking, but decided to just accept it, for Yuri's sake.

"How did you…"

"I met him at school." Yuri interrupted, again able to interpret a question from Victor's babbling.

"We shared a math class in junior year— my junior year. He was a senior at the time."

"He was a _what_?" Victor asked, his voice coming out as a growl. Yuri flinched.

"I don't know why he chose me from the class, there were so many others…" Yuri trailed off, remembering the faces of his classmates. "At first, I assumed he was just trying to sweet talk me into giving him answers for the homework, to cheat for him, you know? He was pretty dumb when it came to schoolwork. He was taking junior level maths for the third time, after all…"

"Wait, "at first"?" Victor asked, snagging Yuri's sleeve to drag him out of the way of a quickly walking man holding a briefcase. Yuri jostled into Victor's side before straightening himself back out and regaining his balance.

"Thanks." He muttered. His head ducked, but not before Victor caught a glimpse of a blush spreading across his face.

"Yeah, at first. He got… more interested, as we got further into the class…" Victor scowled. "One thing led to another, I guess. These things don't happen all at once, you know? They happen slowly, you get eased into it so that you don't even realize what's happening— hey, is that the café?" Yuri suddenly asked, pointing across the street to a long chain of buildings.

Sure enough, one of the buildings had a bright awning with the words "Airi's Café." There were a few tables standing outside but, due to the weather, their chairs were nowhere to be seen, probably having been dragged inside to keep from being damaged by the rain. Deep green ferns hung in baskets from the awning, looking particularly bright on the dreary afternoon.

"Yeah, that's it." Victor said. He glanced up and down the street for vehicles, then grabbed Yuri's arm and jogged across the road. Lighting from inside the café spilled out onto the sidewalk and street, making the rain sparkle and the road shimmer as the rainwater caught in the light.

"Airi?" Yuri asked, reading the sign. "I thought the man who owned this place was called Aiko?"

"He is. Airi is his daughter." Victor answered.

"He named his café after his daughter? That's so _sweet_! Does she work there?" Yuri asked. Victor felt his smile grow at Yuri's enthusiastic curiosity. The boy peered through the large bay windows like a child looking in the windows of a candy store.

"No, she's away at university, but she hopes to take the business from her father's hands one day." He explained, pulling open the French door for Yuri. A gentle tinkling of a bell announced their presence and Yuri skedaddled in, shivering in the warm air. Letting the door close behind him, Victor scuffed his shoes against the welcome mat to dry them.

"Victor, is that you?" a jovial voice asked in awe. A large man with a round stomach walked around the counter with a rag in hang, having been cleaning the coffee machines before his guests walked in. "I haven't seen you in so long, let me look at you!" the man demanded, tossing his rag onto the counter. Victor couldn't help but relax into the strong hug from a close friend who also knew and grieved for Issei.

Pulling back to introduce Yuri, Victor found that the boy was at the opposite end of the room, staring up at the artwork on the walls. Canvases of all different sizes were hanging from the aged brick, each painted in a different style: oil paintings of people, photorealism of random objects, charcoal sketches of plants, abstract art of… something— it was like an art museum.

"Ah, you like art, no?" Akio asked Yuri, seeing his interest in the paintings.

"I adore art!" Yuri exclaimed, eyes bright with enthusiasm. "I'm no good, but I love to see it, and watch it be made." He admitted. Victor slid into a plush, indigo coloured armchair by the windows and watched Aiko take Yuri on the tour of art.

"… Oh, and this one is my favourite, one of my regulars— a sweet girl by the name of Agape— came from Greece to study here and found herself quite homesick. So, when she came in one day, I told her to think of the most _beautiful_ place, the place she missed the most." Aiko was saying, gesturing to a glorious painting of a crumbling, abandoned building overgrown with vines and flowers and other plants done in a very realistic acrylic. Victor grinned at Aiko's theatrical voice, listening to him explain the sights and histories of Greece that Agape had told him.

"She said this was the place where she went to get away from the people and the city and the noise— a little slice of paradise on earth, she said it was."

"It's nice to think that a lonely, abandoned place like this is considered a piece of paradise, a beautiful place to hide from the world if just for a moment." Yuri said dreamily, smiling up at the painting he was stroking the canvas gently with one hand as if longing to reach through the artwork and touch the soft plants, the crumbling buildings, the dusty ground.

Aiko smiled softly down at Yuri, then glanced over to Victor with a knowing look. Victor nodded sharply in understanding.

"Anyhow, what can I get for you fine gentlemen tonight?" Aiko asked with a twinkle in his eye.

"Something sweet and full of energy, like a hot, fresh mocha? Made of the finest chocolate from the markets this morning! Or a soft, frothy latte? Brewed with only the purest cow's milk in the country!" Aiko exclaimed, describing his drinks as if they were exquisite meals.

"Just hot chocolates, will be fine. I don't think we need to rile up Yuri with caffeine, he seems to have enough energy as it is." Victor said playfully. Yuri stuck his tongue out at Victor but grinned as Aiko began brewing up the drinks.

"So, what brings you two lovely boys to my café so late on such a rainy day? Though I have to say, rainy days are my favourite— full of romance and mystery, yes?" Aiko winked over his shoulder to a giggling Yuri. "We were just passing through—" Victor started.

"We're going to meet Victor's boyfriend!" Yuri interrupted excitedly. Aiko almost dropped the mug he was holding and stared at Victor who stared right back with wide eyes. At the sudden silence and tenseness that entered the room, Yuri's smile drooped. "Did I say something wrong?" he asked, twitching in his chair.

"No, no, of course not!" Aiko exclaimed, his normally bright a boisterous tone a little flat. "It's just been quite a long time since… since Issei has been here, is all. I miss my favourite customer." Aiko added. Victor nodded stiffly.

"Why hasn't he come here in a while?" Yuri asked, his seemingly innocent question sending sharp pains down Victor's chest.

"He's… unable at the moment."

"Oh, is he busy with school?"

"Ah, something like that." Victor muttered, burying his face in the chunky mug of warm liquid Aiko just put in front of it."Wow, this is good— try it Yuri, it tastes like heaven!" Victor said, trying to distract Yuri. He felt a bit guilty at treating Yuri as if he was a toddler who asked a mature question, like "where do babies come from?"

Easily distracted, Yuri sipped from a mug that looked more like a small bowl than a cup in his little hands.

"Wow, you're right! How do you get it to taste so good!?" Yuri demanded incredulously, a smear of white whipped cream stuck on his face. Aiko merrily chuckled, going on a longwinded speech about "home grown" and "all natural" and "only the best" ingredients he used for his drinks.

Meanwhile, Victor was distracted. Very distracted. By the cream that smeared on Yuri's face. It was so endearing, but at the same time, Victor had the urge to wipe it off. But you can't just go wiping random people's faces like that, it's generally frowned upon. But his fingers practically twitched with the desire to—

And— against his better judgement— Victor reached over and gently swiped the smear off Yuri's face. Yuri stared up at him, face still half hidden in his mug as if in mid-sip. Aiko, as oblivious as ever, didn't notice this exchange and continued to babble about all the regular customers he missed.

"Th-thank you." Yuri whispered timidly, barely removing the mug from his face. Victor felt his whole neck and face heat up like an electric blanket. Dear Lord, was it possible to die of embarrassment? Victor just nodded to acknowledge the thanks and hunched down over his drink.

"So, when are you two off to see… Issei?" Aiko asked carefully, voice light. Victor shifted uncomfortably as Yuri perked up.

"We were just here to wait out the rain, but it looks like it's stopped. Let's go see him now!" Yuri exclaimed.

"Yeah, we can get going, if you want…" Victor said. Yuri leapt off his chair and scurried to the door, complaining for Victor to catch up.

"What are you going to do, my boy?" Aiko asked when Yuri was out of earshot.

"I can see that you haven't told him."

"I…" Victor sighed, dragging a hand down his face. "I don't…"

"You can't drag this on much longer. You have to—"

"I know, I know, I just—" "Victor, come look at this baby bird— aw, he's yawning!" Yuri was standing on a table outside and peered into a hanging basket of plants, clearly having found a nest inside. Victor turned back to Aiko and gestured with a firm, open hand and a straight arm at Yuri's innocence and childishness as if to say, "what am I supposed to do with this?".

Aiko grimaced. He had no idea how you were supposed to tell someone as sweet and loving as Yuri that the person he was looking for was dead. Victor dragged a hand across his face again, resting his forehead on his palm while his other clutched his hip tightly with frustration. Aiko reached out and patted Victor's shoulder.

"Whatever happens, you've made a friend today. I can see he's not the type to stay angry for long. He'll understand." Aiko said confidently. Victor knew that Yuri wouldn't be too angry when Victor finally fessed up. But he couldn't bear to think of that joyful face full of anguish. Anguish felt on the behalf of and caused by Victor.

"He's so compassionate, he has so much empathy— I know it'll hurt him too, and I just…" Victor sighed heavily, feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders.

"I know, son. I know." Aiko said soothingly. "Now go. I think your friend is ready to leave." Looking up, Victor saw that Yuri was lowering himself awkwardly on the table, which was beginning to shake unsteadily under Yuri's shifting weight.

"Yuri, be careful!" Victor demanded, racing out of the café. He grasped one of Yuri's arms, his other hand going to clutch the boy's hip. Yuri steadied himself by gripping Victor's shoulder and his panicked face smoothed back into its usual grin, now that there was someone to help him off the table. Victor used his hold on Yuri to swing him off the table in a grand swooping gesture.

"And that is why we don't climb on top of tables." Victor muttered, heart racing a million miles a second.

"Sorry, when I heard the baby bird chirping, I just really wanted to look." Yuri apologized. That dratted curiosity was going to get one— if not both —of them killed. Victor suddenly felt like a parent berating a child for doing something dangerous.

"Let's get going before it starts raining again." Yuri piped up wisely. Victor's mind slammed back into the gravity of the situation. Right. The truth. Telling the truth is always harder the longer you drag it out.

"Ah, right…" Victor bit his lip, distractedly fiddling with his hands.

"Are you okay?" Yuri asked, tilting his head to peer into Victor's downcast gaze.

"I…" Victor tried. If ever there was a time to tell him, it was now. Tell him. Tell him! Victor's mind tugged back and forth like a game of tug-o-war.

"I'm fine."

 **AN:** **I mean, I said "be warned."**

 **All rights for the song lyrics go to the lovely BJ Thomas and his** " **Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head." If you don't know it, 1: you heathen, 2: go check it out, it's a classic, 3: you're welcome for getting it stuck in your head.**


	4. Butterfly Whisperer

**AN:** **You _guys_.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Yuri! On Ice**

 **YOU _GUYS_.** **This tore my heart out, repeatedly stabbed it, then proceeded to cover it with a band aid.** **You're welcome for the tears, don't read in public if you're wearing mascara (if you're a rich SOB and you've got the waterproof stuff, then more power to you, go ahead).** **I hope you enjoy!**

CH4— Butterfly Whisperer

Victor was acting weirdly.

Well, weirdly enough for someone Yuri had only known for a little over 24 hours.

Yuri glanced at Victor sideways as they walked side by side down the damp concrete sidewalks. Birds had yet to brave the newly washed air, and most people were still in their homes, unaware that the storm had passed. It was as still and silent as death. The pair's footsteps synched and became the only sounds they could hear.

"So, where exactly are we meeting your boyfriend? And don't just say that we're meeting at a "place" or whatever, like you did last time." Yuri demanded, suddenly remembering something his mother had told him about talking to and/or going anywhere with strangers.

"The cemetery." Victor blurted out, cringing like he hadn't meant to say it.

"The cemetery?"

"It's… peaceful?" Victor offered uncertainly.

"There's flowers and stuff, and it's quiet. It's like a park, but… with less… people." Victor winced at his own wording, much to Yuri's amusement.

"With less _living_ people, you mean?" Yuri grinned sardonically, feeling odd rush of pride thrilling through his veins when Victor laughed at this.

"We're so respectful and considerate, huh?" Victor said.

"Making fun of things is easier than feeling upset over them." Yuri said with a casual shrug. "Actually, the more I think about, the better a cemetery sounds like for a date place." He remarked. Victor raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "I guess it's like bringing some happiness and love to a sad place, right? That's kind of adorable. And it's practical too: there won't be a lot of people hanging around, so you'll get more privacy, plus it's free. It's kind of ingenious idea, actually." Yuri explained.

"Most people wouldn't see it that way." Victor said slowly, with a quirked lip.

"Well, they're stupid and closed-minded." Yuri retorted haughtily with his nose in the air, which earned him another laugh from Victor."Which cemetery are we visiting?"

"Melancholic Hill." Victor stated, as if it were on reflex. Yuri grinned wistfully.

"That's my favourite one. They always have the most flowers."

"You have a favourite graveyard?" Victor asked, as if this were any weirder than regularly attending dates in cemeteries.

"Says the man who's bringing his date to a garden of _dead_ _people_."

"You said it was adorable!" Victor protested, sounding offended.

"It is, but that doesn't keep it from being weird! And anyways, most of the cemeteries within a twenty-mile radius of the house have at least three dead relatives of mine in them." Yuri shrugged nonchalantly at Victor's mortified face."Well, they have to go somewhere, don't they? I guess you could cremate them, but my family has been more on the... traditional side of things." Victor still looked disturbed.

"Oh, I—" It suddenly clicked n Yuri's mind. "Aw, geez! My family has lived in this town for generations, and when they die they're buried here— that's all! All those generations add up to be a lot of people needing to be buried when they die— I don't go around killing my relatives and burying them in every cemetery possible just for the heck of it." Yuri scoffed. Victor gave him a bug-eyed stare. Realizing the implications of what he just said, Yuri rushed to fix his statement.

"Wait! I don't do that at _all_ , whether it's for the heck of it, or not— murdering is illegal, and I would never— I mean, besides the legal implications there's a whole list of basic human morals you'd be violating if you— stop laughing at me, you twit!" Yuri demanded, blushing and embarrassed at his stuttering and fumbling.

"Sorry, sorry!" Victor exclaimed between gasps for air. "So, basically, the reason you have a favourite cemetery is because you have a lot of dead relatives, and therefore have to visit a lot of graves at several different cemeteries." Victor clarified, still fighting for precious oxygen. Yuri rolled his eyes and grumbled under his breath, mostly irritated with his own inability to _speak his own language_.

"That's exactly what I said, why are you laughing?" Yuri deadpanned. This only caused Victor to double over, wheezing for breath. "Wait, isn't Melancholic Hill the other way?" Yuri asked, pointing over his shoulder, suddenly realizing where they were.

"Yeah, I just need to— er, I usually bring him flowers. To our, uh… to our dates, you know? He likes them. Flowers." Victor stumbled over his words a bit, which Yuri found to be relieving. Victor seemed like a well put together person, but he got so flustered when he talked about his boyfriend— so he was human, after all!

"That's really sweet of you." Yuri said honestly. He'd love for someone to bring him flowers— then again, he had his mother's garden. There were enough flowers in there for an entire village.

"I think so too. Hopefully, Issei agrees." Victor said, voice suddenly soft.

The way Victor said his boyfriend's name almost made Yuri come un _done_. Victor's eyes were soft, seeming to glow with love and admiration. His voice was almost a whisper, as if he were savouring the sound, the taste of the name on his tongue. There was also an air of… longing? A bittersweet kind of feeling that usually came about when one missed something, especially if it was something they couldn't have anymore. Yuri figured Victor must just be really looking forward to the date.

" _That's_ why you were stealing my mom's flowers!" Yuri threw an accusatory finger out in Victor's face, suddenly seeing the light. Victor jolted at the sudden exclamation, staring cross-eyed at Yuri's finger. He nodded, looking a bit embarrassed.

"Well, your mom grows his favourites: peonies and roses. Those are apparently the best-selling flowers at the shoppe closest to the cemetery, so they're almost always out of the colour he likes." Victor said, stepping to the side.

With all their talking, Yuri had completely lost track of where they were. They were currently standing in front of a massive explosion of plants. You could hardly see the actual building of what Yuri assumed was the florist shoppe because there were so many plants in front of it. They sat in wheelbarrows, in pots, in jars. They sat in window boxes, they hung from and tangled around trellises and arches— they were everywhere.

"Which colour does he like?" Yuri asked, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the jungle that was this flower shoppe. He wondered for a split second if his mother had converted her garden into a shoppe because, if she did, this was what it would probably look like.

"Pink." Victor said in a hushed tone. Yuri looked over, concern painted across his features, but they leveled out to a soft smile. Victor was reaching out to a single pink rose, his fingertips barely brushing the delicate petals.

"Looks like we're in luck, then!" Yuri said joyfully as Victor plucked the single rose from the bunch of red and white ones that it had been drowning in. Victor glanced at Yuri.

"Looks like we are." He agreed, taking the rose into the shoppe to pay for it. While Victor paid and chatted with the pretty blonde at the register, Yuri poked around the flowers, sniffing and stroking them.

When he had come to the end of the left side of the flower display, he looked up to head over to the right side but stopped short. There was a telephone pole at the edge of the sidewalk with pink flowers stacked around it. Curious, Yuri stepped closer to it, hoping to find out why there was a small flower shrine at the base of the pole. He found his answer. Pinned to the pole was a flyer with the face of a smiling boy on it. Under the face was a name: Suzuki Issei. Yuri blinked. "What a coincidence," he mused internally. He shrugged and continued on to annoy the flowers on the other side of the display.

"Thanks for waiting." Victor said as he came out of the store. He held the rose that was wrapped in damp newspaper to preserve the flower's freshness.

"No problem." Yuri smiled. The two walked back the way they came and veered off in the direction of the cemetery.

"Oh my God, it's another rainbow!" Yuri practically shouted. He blushed and clapped a hand over his mouth. "Sorry." He muttered to a laughing Victor.

"No, no. By all means, shout away." Victor snorted. He glanced up at the rainbow, and Yuri found himself lost. Not in the beautiful, almost surreal and magical colours that stained across the sky, but in Victor's eyes. As Victor surveyed the rainbow and the skies above them, Yuri saw the sunshine that had just managed to peak out from behind the clouds being reflected in Victor's eyes. They bounced off the light blue irises, making them seem even brighter than before. And the sheer _wonder_ those eyes held as they stared up at the rainbow—

"Yuri, are you okay?" Victor asked, jerking Yuri out of his embarrassing thoughts.

"Oh— er, yeah. Sorry, just got… lost in thought, I guess." Yuri grinned sheepishly. Victor rolled his eyes and began walking in the direction of the cemetery again. When they came across the impressive, wrought iron gate, Victor paused. He was probably nervous. Knowing what little he did of Victor, Yuri was willing to bet the poor guy was probably imagining the worst-case scenario, whatever that might be.

"Victor." Yuri said gently. Victor's neck nearly snapped with the speed that he turned to look at Yuri. "It's okay. It's just a date." That didn't seem to help. Victor gave Yuri a small smile that looked more like a grimace of pain, than an expression of happiness or contentment.

Victor pushed open the gate, wincing as it screeched with age. He started down a small, dirt path that wound around rows of gravestones, Yuri in tow. Yuri loved this cemetery. It was beautiful, with bushes and fruit trees and flowers planted in every available, fertile area possible. There were swings hanging from trees, successfully destroying any last bit of "depressing cemetery" vibe that hadn't been vanquished with the colourful flowers and fruitful trees. Benches and tables made from tree stumps stood proudly, and gravestones gleamed in the sun.

"I love this place." Yuri sighed. Victor didn't respond and seemed to be thinking about something awfully hard. Before he could ask what was wrong, something touched him softly on the face. Going cross eyed, Yuri found a butterfly landing on his nose.

"Oh, hello." He greeted the creature, giggling as it flew off and tickled his face with its wings. Victor was staring at Yuri with something akin to awe. Looking over his shoulder, Yuri tried to figure out what was so beautiful and enchanting that it had captured Victor's attention, but he didn't see anything. Unless Victor just really liked peach trees, which stood in a row behind Yuri.

"Don't mine me, I'm a butterfly whisperer." Yuri grinned as another butterfly landed on him, this time settling on his wrist.

"Are you okay?"

"Oh— uh, I'm fine." Victor stuttered, blushing madly. Yuri raised an eyebrow, but let it go. He began gazing around the cemetery in search for someone that might resemble a worthy boyfriend of Victor Nolastname. "So, where's your beau?" Yuri asked curiously, not seeing anyone at all. "Um, about that…" Victor said, suddenly stopping in front of a row of gravestones. Yuri cocked his head, eyeing Victor with concern.

"Victor, whatever it is you can—" as he spoke, Yuri had followed Victor's gaze down to a single gravestone. His heart stopped:

 _Suzuki Issei. Friend and soulmate. 1993-2018. "Dance among angels, where you belong."_

"Oh." Yuri said lightly.

His mind was blank.

Well.

Crap.

And suddenly that blankness was overridden. Yuri felt horribly insensitive. This whole time he told Victor that he wanted to make sure that his boyfriend was a good guy. Yuri said that it was "just a date." He prattled on about flowers and rainbows and exes, while this whole time Victor had been trying to find a way to say… _that!_

"Yeah." Victor said. They stood side by side, staring down at the grave for a moment, before Victor knelt down and carefully placed the pink rose on the ground in front of the headstone. They didn't say anything for a while, and Victor stayed on his knees in front of the stone. He pressed his fingertips of one hand against the face of the stone and bowed his head.

"I miss you." He whispered, voice shaking, fingers clenching into a fist against the stone, as if wishing he could drag his lover up from the ground where he lay, or down from the sky where he now lived. Yuri felt the overwhelming desire to cry. He felt his face warm up, and saw his vision go blurry. Rubbing furiously at his eyes, Yuri did his best to remain stoic. To show sympathy, of course, but to not cry over a man he didn't even know.

But he wasn't crying over a man he didn't know. He cried over a dancer. A coffee addict. A lover of pink flowers. The half to another's whole. He knew so much about this man, except his voice. Except his eyes. Except his heart. He just barely knew his face from the grainy photo that was stuck to the pole surrounded in a river of pink flowers. And he wasn't just crying for that dancing, coffee drinking, pink flower loving man. He was crying for the one who was left behind. The one who was currently kneeling at the headstone of his soulmate, forehead pressing against the gravestone like it was the face of his lover he leaned against, and not a cold, hard stone. The man who was currently tensing his body to keep in his sobs— though his shaking shoulders disguised nothing. Yuri fell to his knees with a graceless thud.

* * *

Victor flinched, when Yuri landed heavily next to him. He expected his new companion to yell and be angry that Victor lied. He expected Yuri to be upset that Victor deceived him, lead him on. He expected another lecture about not stealing depressed women's flowers, or duping young, impressionable boys. But instead, Yuri dropped on the ground like the life was jerked out of him, and he shifted so close that his thighs pressed against Victor's.

"Yuri—?"

"Shut up." Yuri said gruffly, suddenly throwing his arms around Victor.

Yuri was small, but he was surprisingly strong. Victor felt more secure in that iron grip than he had in a long time. With only a moment's hesitation, he turned around in the embrace so the two faced each other, and wrapped his arms completely around Yuri, burying his face into Yuri's neck. Victor relished in the feeling of being close to someone, the warmth and comfort that radiated out from something as simple as a hug. That was what he missed the most: being close to someone else.

It wasn't kissing until fireworks exploded in his mind. It wasn't giggling together about the stupidest things because he was drunk in love. It wasn't joking around together because no one else shared their quirky sense of humour. What Victor missed the most was the closeness. Holding hands during a walk, elbowing ribs in a teasing manner, jostling shoulders to start a play fight— And hugging. Hugging was the best thing invented. Hugging to reassure safeness after a nightmare or during a storm. Hugging to show love and affection in ways that a kiss couldn't express. Hugging to be close and feel connected to someone you loved because it just felt _good_. There were so many things you could communicate in a hug, there were so many ways and reasons and moments to hug.

But Victor didn't think he'd ever hug anyone again when Issei passed. He didn't have any other family than Issei— and, yes, he considered Issei family. They had never talked about marriage, but… it felt like that was the direction they were pulling to. They moved through life without a clipboard, without a list of "must-do's," like: get rings, paint white fence, find surrogate, pay student loans. They went with the flow, and the flow was leading to church bells and tall, white cakes.

Victor never thought that in a million years he'd ever fall in love thought he found his one and only. He thought he found his soulmate. He thought that was it for him. He had a shot at love, he found true love— something that is rare and beautiful, something so many people lived without— and he screwed it all up. That was something that Victor had fought with himself about for a long time. He carried the burden of his boyfriend's death as if he was the one who caused the accident. He found a way to trace everything that went wrong on that day back to himself and blame his mistakes for a young person's death.

If he and Issei hadn't fought that morning, maybe Issei would've been more focused while driving. If they had stuck to their carpooling schedule instead of getting so angry they couldn't bear to be in the same car together, Victor would've been driving and maybe he would've been able to avoid the crash. Or maybe, instead of Issei dying, it would've been Victor. And Victor was more than willing to take his place. But suddenly there was Yuri. And Yuri made him want to _live_. Yuri was like a burst of light, a breath of fresh air, a warm feeling on a frozen night. He was like a parachute that suddenly appears when you're minutes from hitting the ground. He was like lifeboat that shows up when you're seconds away from drowning, when the struggle was too much to bear and you were about to give up and let the waters drag you down. He was there.

And it _so_ felt like he was drowning. It felt like he had been swirling down the drain, a mess of guilt, self-loathing and heartache. He hid his weakness behind a tall shadow and a bright smile, but he felt shame and despair leak out of him whenever he was around Yuri. It was like Yuri dragged the truth from Victor, whether Victor liked it or not. It was like Yuri was the sun that shone through the cracks of a glass window, making what seemed to be whole in the dark suddenly look as if it was about to shatter because the light drew attention to its damage. And it was because whenever he saw Yuri, Victor was reminded of Issei. At first, Victor had struggled with the fact that Issei and Yuri were two completely different people. He kept expecting the same reactions, the same tendencies from Yuri that he had seen in Issei. Victor wondered if his slowly growing fondness for this stranger was due to this stranger's likeness to Issei, and it bothered him. He didn't want to like Yuri because he was the closest thing to Issei that was alive. He wanted to like Yuri because he was _Yuri_.

But, Victor suddenly found himself loving parts of Yuri that Issei never had, parts that contradicted Issei completely. Parts like, how Yuri could be sweet and innocent one second, and downright dark and sarcastic the next. Things like how Yuri was the kind of person to climb a tree to save a cat, while Issei would stand under the tree and call someone for help. Or at least a ladder. Yuri was impulsive and excited but brought Victor down to Earth and grounded him. And it was in this realization when it became clear to Victor: it's possible to love again.

And the Issei-shaped hole had become a Yuri-shaped hole that was so close to being filled. That the hole in his heart that was impossible to fill, had been healed and changed. The sheer relief was enough to melt Victor down into tears. And boy did Victor sob. He sobbed his heart out, drenching Yuri's poor shirt with tears. And, oddly enough, he heard Yuri bawling his heart out, too. And that struck Victor. The idea that someone he barely knew for more than a day was crying for him and his dead boyfriend. It was strange, but only highlighted the reasons that Victor felt his heart aching to never leave Yuri's side.

"This is the weirdest first date I've ever been on." Yuri suddenly whispered close to Victor's ear, a shaky laugh tickling his skin. Victor felt his heart exploding, soaring, leaping.

"You've never… cried while holding a-a stranger on a…. on a grave before?" Victor managed between sniffles.

"Can't… can't say that I have." Yuri let out a tremulous laugh.

"Want a re-do?" Victor asked hesitantly, fingers twisting in Yuri's clothes as anxiety began to get the better of him. It built up in his chest like a swelling wave. He bit his lip and pressed his forehead into Yuri's shoulder. His heart leapt in his throat as he begged every deity rummaging around upstairs to pleasepleaseplease _please_ —

"No." Victor felt his heart plummet into his stomach and ache, his dry throat suddenly burning. Victor attempted to pull himself out of the warm and comforting hug that had suddenly become heartbreaking and tight, but Yuri wouldn't let go. Instead, he clutched onto Victor like a limpet to a boulder, or a child to its mother.

"But I'm down for a second one. Preferably not in a cemetery, though. Gardens are great, but gardens of dead people are a little unnerving."

 **AN:** **Is this painfully cliché? It kind of feels that way but, being someone who's only written one other "romance," I think I did pretty okay, if I do say so myself.**

 **Did you cry? For some reason, it's my goal to make people cry (I'm a sicko, sue me).**

 **Let me know what you think, I want to hear you!**


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